


Shots Fired

by MillerLite89



Category: Letterkenny (TV)
Genre: After Season 8, F/M, Humor, Slow Burn, because season 9 isn't out yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:48:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25288573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MillerLite89/pseuds/MillerLite89
Summary: This takes place immediately after the end of season 8--like right where it left off, at the crowd rushing at Dierck. Wayne and Stewart both have their own part to play in that scrap. Due to the way that plays out, Stewart decides he might have another shot at getting with Katy.Wayne realizes the skid is still sweet on his sister, and while he's grateful for the assistance in the fight, he's still none too happy about it.This fic includes a lot of classic dialogue tropes from the show and I plan on using the full cast. Slow burn means slow burn--I smoke American Spirits so I appreciates a slow burn. I will update this summary and the tags as I go I guess, too early to tell where it's all going.
Relationships: Katy/Stewart (Letterkenny)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	1. Letterkenny vs. Dierck

Letterkenny consists of hicks, skids, hockey players and Christians. These are their problems.

Usually, the hicks, skids, and hockey players of Letterkenny have problems with each other. The hicks don't have any respect for the degenerate behavior of the skids (despite most of the hicks being alcoholics themselves), the skids look down on the hockey players for being meat headed jocks (and to be fair were probably bullied by them back in high school), while the hockey players seem to see themselves as being a cut above the rest of their small town comrades. Today, however, was different. The hicks, skids, and hockey players were all united against a common external enemy: Katy's soon to be ex-boyfriend, the American, Dierck. For all the factions had one thing, one person they all loved: Katy-Kat, and Dierck had made the foolish decision to ignore their warnings that, should he betray her trust, the entire town would line up to whoop his ass. 

So the whole town came out for a scrap with Katy's ex the other day...

Wayne was first in line to do so. It was his sister, the only real family he had left. He didn't bother to light a pre-fight cigarette as he usually did, because he knew everyone was itching to get a hit on Dierck in that scrap and he wanted to be sure to keep his promise. Rather than his usual walk towards an opponent, he ran, like the rest of them. To beat them there to the beating.

Dierck was standing on the porch with a blond woman's arms around him, American flag furled limply to the side of his front door. When he saw the Ontario license plates pulling up to the street, he smirked a bit. He knew Letterkenny was a fighting town, but he figured that they would be smart enough not to try to start a fist fight with an American citizen on his own country's soil. Dierck reached behind his back and pulled out a hand gun, then pointed it squarely at Wayne's head.

The entire group stopped dead in their tracks behind Wayne, who aimed his unblinking stoic gaze at Dierck, his hands on his hips with a wide stance. “Now see here,” Wayne began. “Let's say we fight this the way God intended, man to man.” Wayne decided this would be the perfect time for a pre-fight cigarette, and lit one up.

“Ain't exactly man to man when you've got the whole town there with you now, is it?” Dierck said. The blond woman ran back in to the house.

“We got ourselves a score to settle. You were warned, fair and square.”

“And in my country, this country whose land you now stand upon, it is fair and square for a man to defend himself with a firearm. You should've known us Americans are proud of our second amendment rights.”

“That stiff piece of metal won't make up for your limp dick, Dierck!” Reilly chirped.

“Your fists as limp as your dick, Dierck?” Jonesy chimed in.

Dierck pointed the gun over at them. “Your petty insults won't unnerve me, boys. Go on and get home, off my property, or I'll call the cops on you for trespassing.”

Stewart cocked a smile and took a step forward. 

Dierck pointed the gun at Stewart. 

Katy sat, watching, on the back of her truck. Her jaw dropped.

“Oh, I highly doubt you'll do anything of the sort. After all, you've invited us all here for a party,  
Stewart smiled, coyly. “We've brought beers, the preparations for a pernicious party have been placed.” He took another step forward as the confidence built in his words. 

“I didn't invite you here for any party, and you fuckin' know it!”

“You can deny it, but it's our word against yours.” Stewart took another step, and continued his slow pace up the driveway. “And there's so many more of us... why, who do you think your police will believe? Your tall tale of a gang of friendly Canadians arriving for the aperture of apprehending an arresting altercation? Or, if,” he was at the porch steps now, “you were merely making an excuse for shooting dead an innocent invited to your inhospitable festivity?”

Dierck stared him down, and unlocked the safety of his gun, putting his finger on to the trigger. He said nothing.

“Occam's Razor, Dierck,” Stewart spat the name. “The simpler story succeeds.” Stewart's lips quivered, he brought his chin down to his neck and stared his opponent down from behind his eyebrows with his icy blue eyes as he headed up the creaking wooden steps.

The Letterkenny townsfolk watched in awed silence, none wanting to set off the gun with a sudden move. Wayne cocked an eyebrow with doubt as he puffed his cigarette.

Stewart put one hand underneath Dierck's and the gun raised up to the sky, his other arm taking a firm grasp at Dierck's shoulder. They struggled for a moment and the townsfolk hit the ground and the gun went off twelve times in rapid succession, until the clip was emptied, and Stewart's clasping grip on Dierck's trigger finger produced only empty clicks.

Dierck stared at Stewart with defeat in his eyes.

“You're lucky I'm a pacifist,” Stewart said, then turned to face Wayne. “But he isn't. I believe you have a promise to keep?”

Wayne nodded at Stewart, tossed his cigarette to the ground, and began to walk forward towards Dierck, with all the eager townsfolk behind him.

After the scrap, everyone headed back to Wayne and Katy's place for some Puppers and Gus'n'Bru. There was still another stump to burn, and you shouldn't waste a good stump burning. Wayne, Daryl, Squirrely Dan, the McMurrays, and the hockey players had posted up around the bonfire.

“For a second there I was worried Miss Katys wouldn'ts gets her honors defended,” Squirrely Dan said to Daryl as they lounged beside the bonfire.

“Wasn't fair for Dierck to bring a gun to a fist fight,” Daryl said. 

“Sure wasn't,” said Squirrely Dan. “That's an escalations of force. When I was comings up you'd be lucky to have any guns. Nowadays you got so many guns you wanna brings 'em outs in matters of honors? Must be fuckin' nice.”

“Sure is an escalation of force Squirrely Dan. Anytime anybody's got a problem these days it's straight to escalation of force. Gotta leave this world behind.”

“We handled what had to be handled,” McMurray said.

“Couldn't let a good woman like Katy go by without her honor defended,” Mrs. McMurray said. “There's a special place in heaven for those who defend a woman's honor.”

“We got some good slap shots on Dierck, broskies,” Reilly said.

“Some Zdeno Chara slapshots on Dierck,” Jonesy added.

“Charred his ass like a generation joint,” Joint Boy said.

Wayne nodded. “Affirmative.”

Stewart was leaning against the shadowy side of the barn when Katy walked up with a Puppers in each hand. “You deserve one of these after today,” she said.

Stewart smiled awkwardly at her, looked away, then back at her again, “Thank you, Katy.” He took the beer from her, and they clinked glasses together, then sipped. He smiled.

“So,” she pulled her hair back behind one ear, “I didn't think you had that in you, to put yourself in danger like that.”

Stewart rolled his eyes. “I was never in any danger, Katy. It was a simple matter of deduction. His gun was an intimidation tactic and nothing more. He didn't have it in him to shoot any of us. Anyone could see that... I just happened to see it first.”

“Since when are you so modest?”

“Well, Joint Boy's training really has enhanced my premeditated process of perfecting mind, body, and soul. It's the key to any respected martial art, even in the world of professional wrestling.”

Katy stifled a laugh. “So Joint Boy was training you?”

“Yes, for a fight with this dealer in the city... but that's in the past. Needless to say, I emerged victorious.”

“I thought you were a pacifist?”

“And so I remain. I never swung my fist at him. I took him out with a classic move employed by many WWE champions, lifting him on my shoulders and throwing him to the ground. It was gravity that did the hit, not I.”

Katy stifled another giggle. “Well,” she took another swig of Puppers, “I guess Joint Boy training you does explain how you got so jacked.”

Stewart leaned forward. “You think I'm jacked? I mean, you noticed? I mean, of course you noticed. Who wouldn't.”

Gail approached them with a bottle of Gus'n'Bru in one hand, gyrating her hips as she often did. “Hey skid boy, didn't know you were so damn fearless... I could use a skid skeet skeet on my teats. You can point your gun at me any day. Heard you're packing some serious heat. Looks like you got pretty jacked, too. I got something pretty you can jack off to.”

“Maybe we should all join the party,” Katy said.

Katy, Stewart, and Gail all sat down around the bonfire with the others. Katy took the empty seat next to her brother, Gail took the middle seat, and Stewart sat between Gail and Roald.

“Good scrap big brother,” Katy said to Wayne. They clinked their bottles together and sipped.

“Aye. Good scrap,” Wayne said.

“Couldn't have happened without Stewart, though,” Katy said.

Wayne raised an eyebrow. He looked first at Katy, then at Stewart, who smiled back at him, wiggling his bottle of Puppers. Finally, Wayne said, “I suppose so.” Wayne stood up straight and tall, took a few steps over to Stewart, and extended his right hand, a bottle of Puppers in his left.

Stewart looked Wayne up and down for a moment, then over to Katy, and she smiled. Stewart stood up, and shook Wayne's hand. Despite the friendly gesture, Stewart felt that Wayne still gripped his hand a bit too tightly, uncomfortably, as if he was setting a boundary with his thanks, and leaving it at that. Perhaps, Stewart thought, Wayne was trying to see if he would wince. Stewart refused to wince. Wayne cocked his head to the side and they released the handshake. Wayne returned to his chair and sat down.

“Hey!” Roald piped up, “You know what this party needs?”

“What, Roaldy?” Stewart hissed.

“Some music, dancing!”

Stewart nodded slowly in agreement, then downed the entire bottle of Puppers. “I think you're right, my friend.”

“The missus and I sure do like a good dance,” McMurray said.

“Oh we know all the types of dancing, dirty dancing,” Mrs. McMurray said.

Wayne groaned. He knew Stewart and Roald didn't intend to play any agricultural music. He didn't understand why Katy had a taste for that electronic garbage Stewart made.

“But first, some shots of Gus'n'Bru,” Daryl said.

“Aye,” Wayne echoed. “Gail?”

“Already on it,” she was up and by the fold out table beside the beer cooler where the whiskey bottles and shot glasses were laid out. “I could've already been on some dick too, but even once these shots get off the table, that good fuckin' is still on the table.” She popped a glance over at Stewart, but he looked away.

Gail proceeded to hand a shot to everyone sitting around the bonfire in a circle. When she sat down, they all drank at the same time, then tapped the glasses twice, in unison, on the arm rests of their chairs. Gail got up and collected the glasses.

“I'll get the music!” Roald leapt up eagerly from his chair.

“Katy,” Stewart turned to face her. “Would you do me the honor of a dance?”

“I think you've earned one,” she said.

Roald set up the boom box, and Gail, Stewart, and the McMurrays hit the ground immediately. Roald flailed his arms like a car dealership's inflatable waving tube man during a hurricane. The McMurray's slow danced, off beat with the fast paced tunes.

Stewart looked over at Katy, stood up, bowed before her, and extended his hand. “A dance, m'lady?”

Katy scoffed a bit, and rolled her eyes, but smiled. “Don't be like that about it,” she said. “But yes.” She took Stewart's hand.

“Wondrous,” he said, as he lifted her to her feet. He nearly dipped his head down to kiss her hand, but decided against it. “Let us cavort.”

Katy noticed his restraint, and remembered how handsy he was the first time around. She didn't miss that, did she?

Wayne groaned as the electronic music blasted throughout the the area, watching his sister dance with the skid. The hockey players were watching, too. They both looked ridiculous, but she seemed to be smiling, laughing, enjoying herself. At the very least, Wayne couldn't be upset, in that the style of dancing meant the skid wouldn't be putting his hands on Katy inappropriately.

“Think we got ourselves a problem here, boys,” Reilly said.

“A problem to be taken care of, boys,” Jonesy added.

“Aye,” Wayne nodded.

“It's just somes dancins', Wayne,” Squirrely Dan said. “And Miss Katys is her own womans.”

“Sure Dan,” Daryl said, taking a swig of Puppers. “But we all just got done beating the ass of one guy who hurt Katy-Kat, so it will be a problem if we have to go beat another lowlife for the same thing all too soon. This is one of those situations where you gotta nip things in the butt.”

“It's bud,” Wayne corrected. “The expression is to nip things in the bud, like a flower bud, before it blooms.”

“Huh,” Daryl said. “I always thought it just meant a good ass kickin'.”

“Well why don't we just take care of that problem right now?” Joint Boy leaned forward, and gave a slow look around to everyone left at the circle.

“Somebody get that guy a fuckin' Puppers,” Squirrely Dan said.


	2. Breaskfat with the Hicks

Wayne didn't like the skids passing out at his place, but there wasn't much he could do about it since they weren't in any shape to drive after they wore themselves out dancing. The Gus'n'Bru didn't help either. He couldn't stop Katy from dancing with Stewart the night before, though it didn't go beyond that, he still didn't like it. Sure, Stewart had done a good thing for Katy, but one good deed didn't make up for a lifetime of skiddery. The way he saw it, Stewart had received his thanks and that was that. But he knew the skid still had a thing for his sister and something had to be done about it. He just didn't know what just yet. 

The last time they got together, things sorted themselves out. He had arranged a whole plan to sabotage Stewart's rave and nobody had showed up so the sabotage was pointless. Perhaps this time would turn out much the same, with any luck.

Of course, the last time they had gotten together, Stewart was a pansy who cried when he was knocked over. He had changed since then. Not enough change for Wayne's tastes, but he worried about what Katy might think. She had a habit of picking the wrong dudes. Though he didn't want to tell his sister who she should be going with, after all, those were her choices to make for her own life. But Wayne knew Stewart was still a skid, and that meant he wasn't good enough for Katy. In that case, he'd probably blow it himself. Or maybe it would never have to come to that at all. What's one dance?

Daryl and Squirrely Dan had taken the guest room, so the skids slept in the living room—Stewart on the couch, Roald on the floor. The whole house awoke the next morning to the fresh scent of pancakes, eggs, bacon, and sausage wafting through the home.

“I'd say yous gots a fine spreads laid out for us this mornings Miss Katys,” Squirrely Dan said, taking a seat at the table.

“Fine enough for a feast if I do say so myself,” Daryl said.

“A fine feast for fine fighting beasts,” Katy said, and brought their plates to the table.

“You cooks damn fines breakfasts Miss Katys, and that's what I appreciates about yous.”

“Is that what you appreciate about me?”

Wayne stepped in. “Take about twenty percent off there Squirrely Dan.”

Stewart entered the room. “That fresh breakfast scent is... invigorating,” Stewart said. “Though, I should say, I would have helped in the kitchen had you asked. As a guest, it is only courtesy.”

“I got everything handled here just fine, Stewart,” Katy said.

“Meth isn't the only thing I can cook, you know,” he said, and sat down at the head of the table.

“That'll be my seat,” Wayne said.

“Of course,” Stewart said. “My apologies.” Stewart stood up awkwardly.

Wayne sat down at his usual seat, and glared at Stewart. He didn't like that imposition, even if it was unintended. He should have known that the heads of the table belonged to himself and to Katy, being the residents of the house. It was only proper.

“Where should I sit, then?” Stewart asked. There were only four seats, and the one left open was clearly for Katy.

“Well, I didn't anticipate you staying for breakfast,” Wayne said.

“I did,” Katy said. “There's plenty enough to go around.”

“Well, you'll be eating on the couch I figure. Just don't make a mess. I don't wanna see any crumbs on the floor. Pick 'em up if you make any. Always leave a room cleaner than you found it.”

“Indeed. Can do. Will do,” Stewart said. Katy handed him two plates, one for himself, and one for Roald. He took them both back in to the living room. She went back in to the kitchen and fixed herself a plate, then headed for the living room.

“Where do you think you're going?” Wayne asked.

“It's rude to leave guests to eat by themselves,” she said.

“Suppose it is,” Wayne said, then proceeded to eat his breakfast.

Wayne, Dan, and Daryl sat on the front porch smoking cigarettes and drinking Puppers.

“Your sister sure is spending a bit of time with those skids, Wayne,” Daryl said.

“Well Miss Katys is her own womans and she can makes her own choices,” Squirrely Dan said.

“Sure enough Squirrely Dan, but if I'm honest, and I'm always honest, well, I don't like it one bit,” Wayne said.

“Well,” Daryl started, “Last time it foiled itself. Like a dolphin tryin'a walk on land. Can't be done. There are somethings that some folks weren't born for.”

“So,” Squirrely Dan began, “In this heres metaphors, the skids is a dolphins?”

“You got that right,” Daryl replied. “Some say they're as smart as humans but, I can't say I believe it.”

“Well, you know I reads I an articles in the Smithsonians Magazines about how dolphinses get highs on pufferfishes,” Squirrely Dan said.

“They do what now?” Wayne asked.

“The dolphins, they gets highs on pufferishes,” Squirrely Dan continued. “Just pass around the pufferfishes like jointses.”

“How can anyone get high off a pufferfish?” Daryl asked.

“Well the dolphinses cans. Pufferfishes have gots that toxins, but it's like a hallucinogens for the dolphinses. They bite those poor little pufferses and pass 'em arounds their schoolses.”

“Guess that must be what's holdin' 'em back, educationally,” Daryl said.

“Can't go too far in school when you're high all the time,” Wayne said. “Can't go too far in anything at all for that matter.”

The back door creaked open. 

“Hey guys,” Katy stepped outside, followed by Stewart. “What are you talking about?”

“Dolphins getting high on pufferfish,” Daryl said.

“I've heard about that,” Stewart chimed in, leaning against the railing next to Katy. The tips of his black fingernails were only an inch away from her waist. He wanted to touch her but decided the suffering from not doing so could also be a form of pleasure. And this time around, he didn't want to make the mistake of being as clingy as he did before. This time, he was going to make her crave his presence, and then, his touch...

“Oh, I'm sure you're quite familiar with the drug habits of the ocean's hedonists,” Daryl said.

“For your information,” Stewart began, “Those oceanic hedonists have a system of etiquette known as puff-puff-pass; they each take a puff off the puffer, and then pass it along.”

“But that's two puffs, though,” Wayne said.

“No, it's one puff, because if a dolphin took two puffs, they'd be selfishly hogging it all to themselves. Drug culture requires refinement in one's communal values.”

“Two things. One, I'm pretty sure you said puff twice in there. So that's two puffs. And the second thing, why do you gotta talk like that? Refinement in communal values. Just say sharin' is carin' like the rest of us.”

“The second puff is the pufferfish,” Stewart explained. “You puff the puff.”

Katy rolled her eyes. “They don't smoke weed so they don't gotta make it all distinct. Shouldn't it be just one puff? Why would the dolphins have to specify that they're puffing a puffer?”

“The puffer is actually the one doin' the puffing, I'm sure,” Daryl said. “Do to the suffix '-er' at the end of the word there, which in the English language denotes the subject who is performing the action.”

“But dolphins don't speak English,” Katy said. 

“Well I do, so not sure what that's got to do with it,” Daryl said. “I don't speak dolphin.”

“It doesn't matter what they speak, the point is, they have a system of etiquette,” Stewart repeated.

Roald stumbled out the back door. “Strrrt!” He ran to embrace his best friend around the waist. “I wanna go home! I wanna go to the Dollar Store! I wanna play 'Chell! Please Strrrt let's go already! I'm so bored!”

Stewart wobbled from side to side as Roald held him tight. “I suppose it is time for us to disembark from your residence,” He said to Katy. “I thank you, dearly, for your hospitality.” He tipped his hat and bowed to her before heading down the laneway to his car, Roald skittering close behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what direction you wanna see this go! Also what do you think about the dialogue here?
> 
> I could use some opinions! Thanks! <3


End file.
